


Here We Are at the Beginning

by orphan_account



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Antisemitism, F/F, F/M, Jewish Character, M/M, Mal has a terrible moral compass, Parental Issues, Summer Camp!, Teenagers stealing things, Unrequited Crush, anger issues, kind of anarchronistic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:45:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3576642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is maybe the angriest kid in all of Michigan, Mal and Eames are boarding school hustlers, and Ariadne refuses to go to theater camp.</p><p>An origin story spanning several years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here We Are at the Beginning

 

Arthur is twelve the first time he gets kicked out of school.

“Honestly bubbeh,” His mother is in her scrubs, she must have come straight from work. Arthur feels a stab of pain in his gut, recognizes it as guilt. “You’re lucky they’re not pressing charges.”

There’s dry blood on his knuckles, and he rubs at it in a vain attempt to clean himself off, look less incriminating. Flakes fall to the ground, and land on the white toes of his sneakers. His eyes smart a little as he stands to follow her to the car.  
“Yes Mama.” He grinds the palms of his hands into his eye sockets.

He sticks his hands in his sweatshirt pockets and trails behind her all the way to the car, trying to make himself seem small. She buys him an Oreo Blizzard on the way home, and Arthur presses the cup to his bruised lip. The other boy had a mean right hook, but Arthur had slammed his head into the green ceramic tiles of the boys’ bathroom. He throws most of the Blizzard away after he gets home.

* * *

 

The next time he gets expelled, the counsellor suggests it’s because Arthur doesn’t have a father figure in his life.

“Ms. Dreyfus, Arthur needs a stable male figure figure to look up to. It may help him control these impulses.” The man has a bald spot and his tie is patterned with smiley faces. Arthur’s mother folds her arms across her chest, raises her eyebrows.“It’s Mrs. Dreyfus, actually.” She’s wearing the same smile that she wears when their neighbors give her pamphlets for the Aryan Brotherhood. Arthur laughs under his breath, and stands up, pushing in his chair harder than necessary.

“Nice tie.” He can't stop himself from smirking.

She buys him a chicken sandwich this time. Arthur had wanted a cheeseburger, but he knew when not to push it.  
“I don’t care what that sad little man says, Bubbeh.” He stuffs his mouth with chicken sandwich to avoid the conversation. “Your father would be very proud of you.”

* * *

 

The third time no one says anything about it, not even the doctor setting Arthur’s wrist. His mom gives him a pudding cup.

“Thanks Mama.” She presses him to her chest and he he can feel her shake a little. Arthur presses his plaster wrapped wrist to her back, stares up at the tiles on the ceiling. There’s a large water damage stain spreading across one corner. It kind of looks like a duck. “It’s okay, I promise. It won’t happen again.” He doesn’t even have a spoon for his pudding.

* * *

 

He gets arrested on the fourth. It hadn’t even been his fault this time, with the way the guy had been acting it was only rational. Maybe throwing the desk hadn’t been.

The cop sitting in front of him has kindly eyes and a Magen David on a necklace.  
“Your grandpa is picking you up,” She puts a hand on his knee. “They’ve dropped the charges.”

Arthur hates his grandfather with a passion. The guy smells like chew and thinks he can be a part of Arthur’s life just because he’s related to him. He doesn’t know if Grandpa Samuel knows that things have changed since the Korean war, but with the way he tends to react to MTV he’s willing to bet it’s still 1952 in his mind.

“When are you gonna cut your hair, son?” If Arthur can just focus on the rain drops flowing down the windshield he won’t chew a hole in his lip, he won’t. “You look like a damn girl. Why can’t your mother straighten you out? She should send you away to George Washington.” Arthur bangs his head against the window. “I went for three years, you know. Sorted me right out.”

He can’t stop the words that seem to move his lips of their own accord. Arthur’s hands are fists and he can feel his nails digging into his palms. “Would you just shut the fuck up!” Now that he’s going there’s no way to stop. “Maybe you’re why my dad ran away at seventeen! Did you ever think about that?”  
The rest of the ride home is silent.

* * *

 

The final time is a little anticlimactic, really. He’d already been on thin ice, and getting caught with the AP History exam answers was all it took. His mother stares straight ahead, turns on the windshield wipers.

“I wanted to make you proud, I’m sorry.” He’s crying and he doesn’t know why, and he knows something is coming. “I’m sorry Mama.”  
She flicks on the headlights, coughs a little. “I’ve talked to your grandpa,” Arthur freezes, wipes the snot from his face. “George Washington Military is a good school, you know.”

It feels like all the air’s left the car. “Mama that’s in Indiana.” She nods, and Arthur wants to throw himself from the vehicle.  
“Once you get home Grandpa wants you to start packing.”

 

* * *

 

They cut his hair too short to curl, close to his head. He gets dog tags, and wants to laugh at how seriously they take this. It’s not like it’s anything but a last resort for angry kids and a haven for violent creeps. The man at the front desk gives him his kit and a dorm number and sends him on his way with a salute that Arthur doesn’t return. He’s making his way across the campus when he meets an unexpected interruption.

“Hey!” There’s a hand on his shoulder and he grabs without looking, pushing back the fingers.

“Ow! Holy shit dude, what is your damage?” The guy has bright blue eyes and the most ridiculous hair he’s has ever seen. He’s gorgeous. If Arthur hadn’t already his sexuality crisis, courtesy of John Stamos, he’d certainly be feeling some kind of way right now.

“Yeah, don’t touch me.” The guy shrugs, as if Arthur hadn’t almost broken his fingers. “Whatever man, just trying to introduce myself.” This is how Arthur meets Dominic Cobb.

Dom, as he insists on being called, seems to have a chronic over sharing problem. He’s at George Washington because of tradition, even though he really wants to be an urban planner. Arthur doesn’t say how stupid he thinks this is, because Dom looks like a sad puppy already, and he doesn’t think he could handle it if he was actually upset.

Dom trails him to his barracks, because apparently they’re ‘dorm buddies’. Arthur wants to slam his head against a wall. He’s throwing his things on an empty cot when a grating voice sounds from behind Arthur.

“Hey, Corn Cobb, who’s this?” Dom turns around with a weird face that seems to be a mix between a grimace and an attack of Palsy. “This is Arthur. Arthur Dreyfus. He’s new.” Arthur concentrates on fluffing his pillow.

“You Jewish?” And then once again, he can’t keep it in anymore, and he’s turning around, and this guy is big but Arthur can’t give a shit.

“Yeah, is that gonna be a fucking problem?” His teeth are bared, and he will absolutely lose it if he has to deal with another neo-nazi in his life. “Because I will beat the fuck out of you if it is, I swear.” The guy’s hands are up, and Dom whistles under his breath.

“No man, no issues.” Then he’s gone, leaving Arthur standing red faced with a pillow in his hands.

“Shit bro, you are a piece of work.” Dom ruffles his stubbly hair, and Arthur flips him off. “We’re so going to be best friends.”

**Author's Note:**

> George Washington Military School is actually the school from Cadet Kelly.


End file.
